Damn the Gods
by TheSweetSerenity
Summary: Percy has a little problem with the Gods and he wishes that they had some principles...Just a little drabble I thought up.


**This is the first time I've ever written for Percy Jackson series, so sorry if it's not the best. Also, I had higher hopes for this then what actually turned out. Still, I hope you all enjoy. Please read and review!**

**P.S: Clearly I don't own any of this. **

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><p>I swore that the next time I noticed a God manipulating my life I was going to sit down and refuse to move. They could strike me dead for all I cared! I was tired of them always moving me how they wanted, using me to get to the other Gods and so on and so forth. I mean, I had just defeated Kronos and managed to survive one Great Prophecy. Wasn't that enough for them?<p>

But no. Now, here I was, on my way to Alaska with barely anything to my memory. Mostly just my name and a face. _Annabeth_. I had started remembering more about my life, and most of my memories were about her. The way she looked while she was leaning over a book or designing a building. The way she laughed when I did something stupid. The way she would kiss me every time, just before we had to be parted. It didn't matter if it was only a day or four months—with our lives, there was always a chance of not coming back and we never forgot that, even now when I had forgotten everything else.

But even as I sat and remembered, I was cautious. Was I positive that these were all of my memories? Or was Juno or Hera or whoever she was nowadays just placating me by giving me forged memories? You've probably never had your mind messed with so you wouldn't understand. It was bad enough that my dreams were always messed up, always showing me plots I didn't want to know about, and gods forbid that immortals refrained from talking in your head. Now they were messing with memories? I felt like nothing would ever be completely clear again. As if my mind wasn't even my own now.

I tried to hide it from Hazel and Frank. They had enough to deal with—one coming into massive power and dealing with the fact that his life was measured by a stick (they thought I didn't know, but I knew. They could keep their secret though. I was certainly keeping enough from them) and the other was just coming back to life after postponing this war in the first place. Everyone has moments of weakness though, and mine just happened to be after facing death. I mean, a memory that was still coming back to me, a whole different side to half-bloods then I'd even known before, being told that Annabeth, _my _Annabeth was going to betray me and cause me to fail at a vital decision, and oh, let's see. That's right. Gaea was following me, tracking me. To add to that, I was apparently so important to her that she would kill off another one of her devoted and loyal servants to keep me alive. Yeah, everyone had a breaking point. And I could hold it back to a certain point.

If I was being serious with myself though, I hadn't broken down nearly as much as I thought I would have. If Annabeth had been there, there would have been no secrets between us. We had moved past the secret keeping—we trusted each other and knew that secrets didn't save lives. But I couldn't bring myself to tell them everything.

And gods, the vulnerability. I didn't really remember being invincible, having the curse of Achilles, but now that it was gone, I felt completely exposed. When I was in the middle of all of those wraiths, slashing my way, I wasn't sure I could trust my instincts. I felt like there were swords coming from every angle and I didn't know where to block and where to slash. But, as always, the water was there to guide me, providing me with the help I hadn't expected to receive.

I was lucky that Frank and Hazel were busy taking down the giant. Then they didn't see how battered I _really _was. Wraiths may be a version of dead people, but their swords and spears hurt just as much as any. I had cuts all over my body. I knew I could take them out, but I had to wait, wait for the right moment. Once they could die, _that _was when I could act.

Frank yelled at me, to let me know that they could die. I knew it was time and I knew where to hit the ice so that it all went under. I rallied the wraiths around me and then struck. The ice cracked as water pushed its way through it and we fell. Not as long as the arch in St. Louis, but it was still a long fall. There was that second where my body was confused—had we struck water? We weren't wet though, were we? And then I adjusted and sunk into blissfulness. The water healed my aches, soothed my anger, warmed my cold body. As it lifted me back up to the ice, I whispered my thanks to my father.

As I sat there waiting for Frank and Hazel to come back, the only thing really going through my head was how thankful I was that someone else had killed the giant. I was tired of the giants and them all hating _me _just because I was always the one killing them. It was entirely selfish of me and made me seem arrogant, but it was true. I hadn't even dealt with any of these giants and they were already calling me out, offering me all sorts of torture. Maybe now, everyone would just leave me alone.

Yeah right.

I hated that the Gods messed with my life whenever they felt like it. I hated that they liked to pretend that they didn't need our help. I hated that most of the time, when they were using me, they were making the right choices.

I hated them all.

But I did love my father in a strange, dysfunctional way. I loved that the water was so calming to me, so healing, and so very, very powerful. And most of all, I loved that I was able to meet Annabeth this way.

I was going to have a seriously talk with the Gods when this was all over though. Something along the lines of _asking _before making me disappear off the face of the planet without a warning.


End file.
